can't talk that crap with you, with you rapping,
and how's your papa, who played the guitar; that
jazz man, that jazz!
you can take the european charity
companies to court... we're paying **** all
     until Africa stops faking
the ****** of post-colonial money...
should have settled that **** with
your original contractors...
   i hate the adverts, i doubly hate
the care for honesty...

need to take it up with
the bollocking's worth for africa...
the moment i spotted this
one fat kenyan woman
strolling, i started thinking about
keeping foxes more...
you gave us jazz, you gave the blues:
******! move!
      you deconstructed
the european orchestra! what more
do or can want?

       a ******* nightie...
white teeth and a chance spot of
scelara... ****** please,
i'm talking to this girl and i don't
have a 11 inch *****...
    you gave us jazz and blues, man,
what more do you want?!
     i love you man,
but the bro **** has to stop...
   a few of my "species"
liked to lacerate themselves,
i *** it...
              but you're turning all
******* Kentucky on me...

i'm not buying the need for charity
with western charity shops,
when i was in Kenya i realised:
only the idiots made it to the slave boats...
thankfully they did...
otherwise we'd have no blues or jazz...
and you're complaining...
   what did the germans and the russians
ever teach the poles when they invaded?
  i'm trying to think of something...
i can't think of anything!
nothing of musical to be sure...
          
   if there was no slave trade
there would be no jazz and no blues...
at least you can don that skin of yours
with pride...
   all i got was Auschwitz and a bunch of
angry Israeli tourists...
so yeah... clap clap...
    the only thing that might seem comforting
is allowing me to deal with it alone.
   i really can't be bothered with
people testing the shark-infested waters of
faking happy...
        please do... please... but not here.

next time i'll hear you complain
i'll just think of the last time you visited the Ivory Coast
and said: i'll never come back,
never mind the coco and knots.
     this is the last time you start moaning
about feeling: so at home.
last time ******...
           because you do...
     the last time i spoke to a whitey i was also
told: you didn't say that akin to ***** enough...
     last time i checked,
     it really didn't matter that i talked to a white
person...
            to give a proof of relativity,
   extract a word from akin shapes of relativism,
and give it concrete status, you'll probably get a
chemistry or physics theory...
            
      i really can't hear the complaints enough,
even though i'm hardly the one to inherit the *******...
i just hear jazz and blues...
        and as the sole instigators of post-classical music...
given the current theme, ultra-african,
primarily drumming...
       e.g. distance and the album
repercussions, and how it sold-out like
   a litter of hot bagles...
      or a bunch of golden labradors...
and i own a copy.
              
  that's the oddity of speaking the same tongue
as the one currently gravitating toward speaking
a history, and how tongue and ethnicity misfires,
how there are mongrels of the flesh,
and how there are mongrels of the soul...
how i will never, ever, accept a historicity,
and subsequently a responsibility...
    for something done in the past...
i could be german and forget the holocaust
given that the theme in several languages in western
europe is based on a colonial past...
      and i don't even know how i am to stomach
it, or begin creating an identity from it...
i heard ****** played blues and jazz,
and i was like: forget chopin!
    
they taught us a method to unlearn grammar
in the case of having learned it in the language
of music... came first: spontaneity:
like that scottish language teacher...
   who taught no grammar rules...
          some might claim to treat them as the proto
revisionist-reductionists...
and yet... so much hysteria over a word
on the tongue that would easily equate it as
homie...
          it's sad enough to pass an atmosphere of
easily acquired depression,
simply working from the basis of leveraging
the need to learn vocab, as in later instances
curbing it... and that's politics not done by politicians
but by 3rd party people obeying instructions
that don't necessarily require digging trenches,
which are nonetheless dug.
     i literally have no real argument for
democracy, other than: rule by being rude.
               i am actually tempted by the political schematic
of despotism, when we learn an omnipresent care
for etiquette, and how politeness gives us such tiny
delights, but at least the tiny delights are recurrent...
  democracy is just infested with the spirit of revolution,
like the re- / again and again could ever be improved,
or what's called: re-inventing the wheel...
    i think it's hardly necessary to give the mob:
an authority...
         i find the mob to be no source of authority...
   at least rulers can be undermined,
   made fun of in a game of posturing and
               philandering...
   the mob can't be over-ruled...
                  it has no shadow,
it has no individual...
it's basically just one sack of *****
   ready to implode, and when imploding
continually deviate from a work-ethic status
of a plateau-strata with only one individual
    ****** enough to be the tulip above the waters...
with democracy, no one really takes any real
responsiblity...
     all despots are accounted for,
but in the case of democracy, since the crown is passed
around like a ***** so frequently,
everyone can play the Pontius Pilate...
how eager they are with washing their hands...
   that's democracy for you,
shadow people and everyone
  a spy unto the next person: or at least glass houses:
with social media outlets: also glass people...
  they said Milošević was bad...
they held talks at the Hague (proto Nuremberg)...
but still T. Blair walks as innocently
as a swan...
   democracy has a perfect sense of
being a poetry describing a brothel...
  many people came through its doors...
a lot of hands were shaken, a lot of promises were made...
    and when democracy had its fury established,
it attacked the monogamy of despotism:
i.e. one man one country...
                     after all, pyramids were sacred,
as was the study of the river of *****...
democracy is a brothel, shadow people who make
many handshakes, and like cowards,
disappear into the night of a throng
and shout: it's all humble pie perfect!